


Inadvisable

by kattahj



Category: Syriana (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8819407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: Of course Nasir notices right away that the American is handsome, in a puppyish sort of way, but the man's arrogance and condescension – so like his country itself – are off-putting. It's only later that the actual attraction starts, and then they're caught up in personal tragedy and a whirlpool of politics.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [litalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litalex/gifts).



Of course Nasir notices right away that the American is handsome, in a puppyish sort of way, but the man's arrogance and condescension – so like his country itself – are off-putting. It's only later that the actual attraction starts, and then they're caught up in personal tragedy and a whirlpool of politics.

Now it's been weeks, and he's watching Bryan read through the projections with his brow furrowed in concentration – no, more than concentration, concern.

“Is something the matter?” Nasir asks.

Bryan looks up, that blue gaze settling on Nasir's. “What?”

“You don't think this will work?”

“No... yeah, it looks reasonable...” Bryan's hand runs over the papers as if he can smooth out the bumps in the road ahead that way. “Sorry. It's just personal stuff.”

“Oh,” Nasir says, thinking of electricity flowing into the body of a small child. How could he not? How could any of them not?

“Julie wants to go home. She's not happy here.”

“I understand,” Nasir says, and his mind is feverishly coming up with plans to keep Bryan right where he is, plans that have something to do with the man's usefulness as an advisor, but much more to do with other things. He sternly tells his mind to shut up, that if the Woodmans want to leave they should leave. He's not about to increase the suffering of people who have already suffered so much. Licking his dry lips, he asks, “And will you?”

Bryan shakes his head slowly in a way that doesn't quite indicate a “no” answer. “I don't want to. There's so much to be done here, I can't just leave you to figured it all out.”

“Yet somehow I've managed without you before,” Nasir says. There's no menace to it. On the contrary, he has to quench a smile.

“I know that, but I'm doing something good here.” That honest puppy face is focused on his, and Nasir has to concentrate to keep his mind on the business. “This may be the most important thing I'll ever do in my life. Changing the future of the world, even. But at the same time, I've got to be there for Riley. For Julie, too.”

Nasir is silent, weighing his words and finding none that measure up.

“What would you do?” Bryan prompts. “If you could do some real good in the world, but your family might go to bits over it?”

“You mean more than it does already?” Nasir asks dryly.

“Yes. Sorry. I meant... with your wife and –” Bryan's voice still hitches at the word “– kids.”

And what's he supposed to say to that? Nasir thinks of Khadija, nice, sensible Khadija, and he thinks of Malak and Jamilah, and he decides to go for honesty, of a kind. “If bad comes to worse, I may have to send them away, for their own safety. But anything short of that, I hope we could resolve amiably. My wife and I work together well; that's why I married her.”

“You make it sound very businesslike.”

Despite his still-troubled look, there's a gentle teasing in Bryan's voice, and Nasir responds to it with a smile.

“I'm a prince. She's a member of my team. It _is_ businesslike.”

“You don't love her?”

“I like her. And I needed an heir. That's the best I could do.” He doesn't mention that if things don't turn out his way, that heir may have been produced for nothing.

“You never loved anyone else?”

Those blue, honest eyes are hard to meet, and for a moment Nasir is tempted to let slip... something. Not the whole truth. Instead, he says, lightly, “Of course. My mother. My son. And there was this nanny, when I was a child...”

“But no women? Romantically, I mean?”

“No women,” Nasir says, raising his gaze, and _something_ passes between them. There's a glimmer of understanding in Bryan's face that makes Nasir wonder if he's revealed too much after all. He hurries to continue. “My brother's the Don Juan in the family. Though 'love' is not the best word to use. You should hold onto that love, Mr. Woodman. It's worth cherishing, for those who can afford it.”

“I guess so,” Bryan says slowly.

The silence stretches out into the room, and then Bryan shakes it off and returns to his work. After a moment, Nasir does too.

* * *

 

Nasir and Bryan are deeply involved in a discussion about infrastructure in the countryside as they walk down the corridor towards the office, and Nasir is just about to explain the fundamental misunderstandings inherent in Bryan's argument when they reach his desk and his gaze falls on the newspaper lying open there.

He's not the one who put it there. And he certainly wasn't the one to circle a headline in red: “Ten years' sentence in debauchery case.”

Sitting down heavily, he closes the newspaper and pushes it aside.

“What was that all about?” asks Bryan, standing on the other side of the desk.

“Just a message from my brother,” Nasir says. “He forgot a vital detail.”

“What's that?”

“I am not afraid of him.”

Bryan frowns, and Nasir feels a sudden surge of panic – does Bryan read Arabic? Surely not upside down, in any case, and with only a few seconds' glimpse of the paper.

“And of course, then there's infant mortality,” Nasir says, keeping his voice light as he returns to their previous topic of conversation. “It's 47% percent higher in rural areas. That is largely to do with access to healthcare, which in turn depends greatly on serviceable roads.”

Bryan goes pale – paler – and it takes Nasir a second to realize that in his attempt to avoid one sensitive subject, he has trampled all over another.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“No, it's fine, that's....” Bryan swallows hard and starts again. “That's obviously an issue to keep in mind.”

They keep talking, even making some progress in the planning, but the tension remains.

After a few minutes, Bryan asks, abruptly, “So how _do_ you feel on LGBT rights?”

Nasir has sat through far too many diplomatic meetings to let his feelings show on his face, but it still takes a moment for him to recapture his breath.

“Why do you ask?” he says, stalling for time.

“I have Al-Barid Al-Yawmi too,” Bryan says, nodding towards the paper at the corner of the desk. “There's been some buzz about that case, even back home.”

That's not surprising – Americans and their endless petitions. The term “LGBT rights” implies that Bryan is in favour of them; Nasir remembers that much from his time at Georgetown. It would be “the gays” or “the homosexuals”, otherwise.

“There's nothing I can do, at this point,” he says. “The verdict has been made, only my father could give them pardon, and I very much doubt he's going to do that.”

“Yeah, but in general?”

“In general, there are many battles to be fought for my people. This is not on top of that list.”

“But it's on the list?”

“I can't afford to put it on the list,” Nasir snaps, knowing he has said too much before the words have even finished coming out of his mouth. Even to this Western liberal puppy of a man. Is the room bugged? He doesn't think so, but he can never be sure.

At least he knows that Bryan isn't a spy. Nobody in their right mind would hire Bryan as a spy. Everything he's feeling is apparent on his face: right now there's surprise, sympathy, and perhaps even a tinge of excitement, as if measuring Nasir up for one of those pride parades.

Well, _that_ isn't going to happen. And that very guileless nature could be a threat. If Bryan lets anything slip... and Nasir can't even warn him off. That would be as good as an admission, and all his brother needs to secure the throne.

“If you'll pardon me,” Nasir says stiffly. “I'd like to return to more pressing matters.”

He ignores the lingering, disappointed look from Bryan. You don't get to be emir by giving in to emotional turmoil. And anyway, the man is married.

* * *

 

“Well, that's it,” Bryan says, three weeks later, and lights a cigarette with shaking hands. It's the first time Nasir has seen him smoke. “Separate beds, separate lives... Julie's looking to buy tickets home. My marriage is officially in shambles, and the strange thing is, I feel relieved. I think I've been waiting for that shoe to drop for a very long time.”

“I'm sorry,” Nasir says. “Or not, I suppose. No,” he amends, “I _am_ sorry. She seems like a good woman.”

Bryan shakes his head slowly. There are tears clinging to his eyelashes. Without warning, he drops the cigarette onto the tile floor, leans forward, and catches Nasir's lips in a kiss.

They're in a private patio, but even so, the walls leave the sky wide open, for drones, or cameras on sticks, or Heaven knows what. Nasir pushes him off, instantly.

“Are you _insane_?”

Bryan stumbles off. “Did I read you wrong? Aren't you...?”

Another word could be the end. Nasir curses under his breath and turns on his heel, beckoning Bryan inside with a jut of the chin. They walk through the corridors to Nasir's study, one that he has searched through frequently enough that they can be somewhat certain to keep the conversation secret.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, out there?” Nasir demands once the doors are closed.

“Listen, I'm sorry, but I thought... you're gay, right? And I always got the impression that you'd want it.” Bryan's eyes narrow at whatever he sees in Nasir's face – that usual reliable mask must be slipping. “You _do_ want it.”

“Not here. Not _now_. And certainly not with a married man!”

“Marriage falling apart, remember?”

Nasir leans back against the wall, taking slow, steady breaths.

“Is that the problem?” Bryan asks. “You think this is just some whim, for me? It's not. I'm bisexual. You know what that means, right?”

“No, I have never heard of such a concept,” Nasir snaps. “Me in this backwards country of mine, I have never so much as touched a man before your arrival shook me to my core.”

“All right, easy on the sarcasm. What, then?”

“Ya sharmouta,” Nasir mutters to himself. “So you're bisexual, and your marriage is ending, and you're looking to spread your wings. Good for you. I am the _prince_. I'm looking to be the emir. What I cannot afford to be is your rebound!”

“It wouldn't be like that,” Bryan says, hurt softening his features even further.

“It's not going to be like anything,” Nasir says and steps past him to leave the room.

“I thought you said you weren't afraid of your brother.”

Nasir halts, his hand already on the doorknob, and slowly turns. “I'm not. And one reason I'm not is because he thinks with his dick, and I don't. If you want a lover, I'm sure I can shake one out for you. But I need you as a financial advisor. That is all. Can you be that?”

He doesn't know what to do if Bryan turns him down, if this moment has ruined their partnership. Giving in would be catastrophic, but losing Bryan entirely would be... he can't finish the thought.

But he is given a small, unhappy nod, and his heart can resume its beat.

* * *

 

In the end, it's all for nothing. The emir names Meshal as his heir, backed by the Americans, and all Nasir can do is try to raise enough support for a coup. The result of which will likely be a bloody mess, but no more of one than Meshal would make of the country.

At the moment, he's back in his study with Bryan, who has opened a bottle of whiskey. There are two glasses, because at a time like this, all Nasir can think of saying to Allah is a massive “fuck you.”

“I really thought it'd be you,” Bryan says, already halfway to sloshed. “You're clearly the most competent.”

“I'm not loyal enough,” Nasir says. “Not to my father, or your government. Competence matters very little, when it comes to power. We can rail against the mustakbir all we want, but the mighty dollar covered in oil... there's no greater combination.” He raises his glass. “As for the people? Well. Between the sermons and the spectacle, they might not even notice they're being screwed, and if they do, what of it? There's always the whip to keep them in check.”

“It doesn't have to be like that.”

As miserable as Bryan sounds, there's that insistent hope, that glimmer of innocence that just won't die, despite it all. Impossible, wonderful man – and it's Nasir's turn, now, to lean in for a kiss.

Bryan meets it halfway, deepens it, and only when their lips part does he ask, softly, “And all that stuff you said about being the prince? Is this your way of giving up?”

“I'll fight them until my dying breath,” Nasir says. “Tomorrow, and the day after. Tonight, I want to be just a man. Let me be selfish, for once in my life.”

He kisses Bryan again, hands exploring the chest under that crisp tailored suit. That suit is coming off, he knows with certainty, this will not end with kisses – and the thought shoots heat through his body so fiercely he can't help a moan from escaping.

He can feel the corner of Bryan's mouth quirking up.

“How long has it been?” Bryan asks.

“Since Georgetown.”

“So that's... fuck, that's a _really_ long time.”

“Too long,” Nasir says, starting to undo the buttons of Bryan's jacket. “So don't stop now. Not for a second.”

“Don't worry,” Bryan assures him. “I won't.”

* * *

 

It turns into more than one night. Of course it does; if Nasir is to be honest with himself, he never thought otherwise. He maintains caution, always, but one benefit of living in a place where homosexuality is unthinkable is that people don't tend to think of it. There is a certain leeway that wouldn't be had in the USA; he can let his hand rest on Bryan's as they ride together at the back of the car, and there is nothing anyone can say about it.

A bedouin caravan halts their convoy, and they step out of the cars. Khadija and the children play among the goats, more carefree than Nasir has seen them in a while. He joins them, worries momentarily forgotten. Despite everything, life still carries on, bedouins still herd their goats and the sand dunes lie as beautiful as always along the horizon. He lifts Malak high into the air and grins back at his son's beaming face.

“Your highness?” It's Bryan, formal as always when they're in company. “Why don't you ride together?”

Puzzled, he searches Bryan's face, trying to find the reason. Is he urging Nasir to remember his duties as a prince...? But then he realizes, no. Not a prince. A _father_. A lump forms in his throat, and he smiles, first at his lover, then down at his son, sitting on his arm.

“Why, thank you, Bryan!” Khadija says. As they step into the car together, she adds to Nasir: “He's so thoughtful. I'm glad you have him.”

His eyes meet hers, and he realizes that she knows – she understands. Of course she does. Dear, reliable Khadija, the best partner he could wish for.

He fastens Malik's seatbelt and answers, softly, “So am I.”

The feeling pounding in his chest is so rare that it takes him a while to recognize it as happiness.

In this brief moment, he is truly happy.


End file.
